I usually see you in this place, the "Café de Flore", every Thursday. It sits directly across the road from our apartment complex.
I came over for my afternoon coffee, but you aren't here. Aren't you the one to get here before me?
I don't generally come to places like this, but it was you that brought me here. 
Your scent, that's sweet like the jasmine flower, yet bitter like the darkest of chocolates, fills the small shop. 
I never get sick of it, although... I've noticed it never really changes. 

I don't find you pretty, yet… I don't find you ugly either. 
As I look at my hair in the café window, I am reminded of your short, shaggy bob style that never looks brushed.
That long beige coat and red scarf you wear with leggings perfectly suits the delicious cinnamon scent that blends in with your fragrance. 
I sit down at my usual table, the one in the corner; opposite yours. 

I look out the window, is that you I see crossing the street? 
Ah! It is. You must be running late today, that's okay; the weather is terrible. 
The bell above the door rings when you step in. You remove your coat, and sit at your usual table. 
A young girl that works here walks over to you with a saucer of 2 cinnamon buns and a cup of coffee. 

You smile at me. Have you finally noticed?
You look out the window as you take a sip from your small cup of coffee and sigh at the weather. 
Funny, you have this atmosphere of a french woman- yet you're as Korean as Bibimbap. 
Your red lipstick brings out your bright smile. And your eyes are sparkling; a nice chocolate brown. 
I close my eyes and imagine you next to me. Sipping that coffee, laughing, sharing that cinnamon bun. 
Heh- It seems my hunger has got in the way.

When I finally open my eyes, you are just about ready to leave. You've just paid and now your reaching for your coat. Was I dreaming for that long?
You put your hand on the door handle, then glance over to me. 
You smile then wave. I nod, and you leave. 

I'm left with your scent again. 
My heart hurts a little, because all that's left is your scent. 
I act like I'm not interested. But deep down, I yearn for you.  
I look outside to see the rain falling fast, knowing that I'm not going to see you again till next Thursday, I leave the café and go back home. 
"Maybe next time" I smile to myself, rain dripping on my head.